


the physics of my falling apart

by freezerjerky



Series: lead me back to you [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 09:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: Newt’s hands are sweaty, but he can’t relinquish his grip on the steering wheel. He’s been parked outside of the Cambridge train station for about half an hour, waiting for a slightly delayed train. This seems like one of the more foolish ideas of his life, renting a car to drive around a perfectly walkable city, all for someone who probably doesn’t even care anymore.sequel to "you're riding with me tonight"





	the physics of my falling apart

**Author's Note:**

> Here's part two! Probably best to have read the first before reading this.
> 
> I've obviously taken liberties with the canon events of the first meeting- seeing as they've known each other for several years in this series now.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ [pendragoff](http://pendragoff.tumblr.com) and at twitter @ [newtguzzler](http://twitter.com/newtguzzler)

_2017_

Newt’s hands are sweaty, but he can’t relinquish his grip on the steering wheel. He’s been parked outside of the Cambridge train station for about half an hour, waiting for a slightly delayed train. This seems like one of the more foolish ideas of his life, renting a car to drive around a perfectly walkable city, all for someone who probably doesn’t even care anymore.

For a few moments, he entertains an escape plan, but that doesn’t seem like the mature thing to do in this situation. He really should work up to entering the train station, because he definitely did not say anything about waiting out front in a crappy rental car. After this song, he promises himself, knowing full well that the song has just started.

Just then, someone taps on the glass and he startles.

“Fuck,” he exclaims. He realizes after then that it’s too late and he cannot recover from this. After three years, the first word Hermann has heard out of his mouth is fuck.

“Articulate as ever, Newton,” Hermann drawls, his voice becoming clearer as Newt rolls down the window.

“I thought you were going to meet me in the train station. You took me off guard.”

“Smoke break.” Hermann lifts his hand, revealing a lit cigarette. “I didn’t see you in there, so I thought I’d indulge for a moment.”

“You didn’t smoke before.”

He watches as Hermann takes a drag of his cigarette then tosses it to the ground, stamping it out. Hermann does not answer, but instead moves around the car, slipping into the passenger seat. Newt hasn’t allowed himself to have a good look at him just yet, but he looks different, and yet the same. More tired and a slightly worse haircut, but otherwise the same down to the poorly fitted trousers.

“I got the car because I thought,” Newt begins, feeling very awkward, “you know, like old times? Picking you up?”

This was clearly an awful choice. Every part of this was a bad decision and he wants nothing more than a hole to swallow him up where he sits.

“No, of course. I understood right away.” Hermann offers a smile and Newt immediately feels his heart jump into his throat. He doesn’t want to say he’s still in love with someone he hasn’t seen in person for three years, but not saying doesn’t make it less true. “Do you still drive people around Boston in your free time?”

Newt scoffs. “What free time? You know what I’m talking about.” He’s virtually PPDC property now, as Hermann himself is acutely aware. “If you remember, I was briefly using a scooter to do food deliveries. After I traded in the car.”

The truth is, they’re both only here today because it’s the first time since Hermann left that they’re even in the same country. How the fates have aligned to make this happen, Newt’s not exactly sure. It’s only a weekend, regardless, a courtesy to an old friend. At least that’s how Hermann more or less made it sound in his letter.

The letters themselves have varied so widely over the course of the years. The first handful were practically love letters, full of the promise of rekindling, even if they didn’t say so much in words. As they became more about their work, the passions took a different turn completely. Lately, it seems like the only interest on the page has been related to work, and their communication has only been through letter, no texting or emails or phone calls. Newt was honestly surprised that Hermann agreed to meet up with him at all.

His first theory is that Hermann is seeing someone and it’s become serious, so he doesn’t know how to maintain the not entirely professional relationship with Newt. When he sees the bags under Hermann’s eyes, though, he suddenly doubts he even has time for dating, let alone interest in it. That leaves him with the second theory, which is perhaps even worse. Hermann is losing all interest in him.

 

Neither of them has really thought through what they’re going to do with their weekend. They’ve booked a hotel for two nights (two double beds) and done little else. Between his usual work and the conference that brought him to England, Newt truly does not have the time to think about any plans. If nothing else, he’ll be happy to sleep in a very soft bed for more than a few hours.

“You don’t have the nose piercing anymore,” Hermann observes as he’s unpacking his suitcase. Newt never bothers doing so for such a short trip. “The last time you sent a picture, you had it.”

“Has it been that long since I sent anything?” Newt instinctively rubs his index finger against the outside of his nostril. “I took it out around the time I started at the jaeger academy. Maybe shortly after. You’ve got reading glasses, on a chain.”

“It’s far easier than constantly reaching for them, Newton.” Hermann shakes out a shirt, frowning at the state of it.

Newt, from his perch at the edge of his bed, thinks it’s possibly one of the cutest things he’s ever seen, but that will not do. He’s not going to let his feelings complicate a very good working relationship and friendship. But, the voice at the back of his mind supplies, Hermann never said there was no more chance of reconciliation.

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve been wearing mine full time for most of my life,” Newt comments. “Do you want to get dinner or something?”

“I need to finish unpacking, then I suppose we should eat something.”

He’s starting to wonder if Hermann even wants to be here. But if he doesn’t, he had ample opportunity to say no. They’re both busy men with busy lives, so why set aside a whole weekend for someone he doesn’t care to see?

They end up at a fish and chips shop for dinner, perched on high stools by the window to watch everyone pass by. Newt’s feeling nervous and so he’s on his second beer before he’s even halfway through the meal. When he first met Hermann there was no pretension or need to impress, it just happened naturally. Now he’s got years of letters about everything he’s been doing and an actual career that sounds impressive on paper, but seems less impressive when he describes it in person.

“So how is coding?” Newt asks before taking a big gulp of his beer.

“I don’t sleep most nights, being here away from my work has caused stress that I do not deserve, and I don’t see either sunlight or other humans for hours on end. It’s...swell.”

“I’m sorry, Hermann.”

Hermann takes a very elegant sip of his red wine and then stabs a chip with a fork. “It’s necessary and very important work, and I know I’m one of the best at it. In time, I hope to be able to do other work that I’m more passionate about. How’re your attempts to dig around in guts?”

“Not nearly as many guts as I was hoping for, to be honest,” Newt answers. “Apparently to get to the good stuff, you need contacts and they’ve got me in the lab doing whatever they need from me so often, I don’t even remember the last time I had time to myself.”

“But you love it.”

“God help me, I do.” He smiles at Hermann and takes yet another swig of his beer.

“As do I, at the end of the day when I know lives have been saved.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Newt clinks his bottle against Hermann’s wine glass and they both finish off their drinks. “I’ll get you another, if that’s alright.”

“Oh. Thank you, Newton.”

It’s mostly an excuse to get a third for himself without seeming eager to drink, and it works. He steps away to fetch their drinks and then returns to the high stool. Hermann stares at his feet, an odd expression on his face.

“What is it?” Newt asks, suddenly self conscious. “Did I spill?”

“I’ve forgotten just how...small you are.”

“Everywhere but where it counts, right?” he teases and it takes several tense moments to realize that this was not an appropriate joke for the occasion.

“The ego, yes,” Hermann deadpans eventually.

“Yes, Hermann. I have not grown in the past few years. I’m still approximately the same and my feet do not touch the ground in this seat.”

“Do you want to move?” he asks and his hand hovers over Newt’s knee for just a moment.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Newt picks at his food. He’s definitely hungry, but he’s also far too nervous to eat at his usual pace. This is going to make for an uncomfortable weekend if he doesn’t eat a full meal.

“Do you not like your food?” Hermann asks.

“It’s fine, just trying to savor it,” he explains. He shoves a few chips in his mouth for good measure.

He manages to finish his beer before the dinner is over and then proposes that they find a place to have a drink. With the drink, he feels less nervous and awkward about everything. What he wants to do, more than anything, is ask if Hermann feels the same. Instead, they find a small pub around the corner from their hotel and have another drink each. Or three more in Newt’s case, leaving him feeling very much so more than tipsy, especially given that his current lifestyle doesn’t allow for much drinking.

“We need to get you back to the hotel,” Hermann says, pulling Newt’s final pint away from him. “I am not taking care of a drunk man all night.”

“‘m not drunk, though. I would know if I was drunk.”

“You are drunk.”

Hermann takes his hand and his heart feels like it’s going to explode and implode all at once, but this is all just a ploy to make Newt stand and leave the pub. As soon as Newt’s capably walking, any physical contact is through. Newt feels bereft, walking in the streets of a foreign city next to someone who used to love him.

Back in the hotel room, Newt starts to strip down to just his boxers. Hermann was never a prude in the context of a comfortable space, and Newt’s not going to ask if that’s changed now. He has every opportunity to tell Newt to put more clothes on if he feels uncomfortable.

“I’m going to smoke a cigarette on the balcony, if you don’t mind,” Hermann says before he steps outside.

Newt stands for a moment, transfixed by the lines of Hermann’s back as he leans against the balcony. In his drunken haze, even the way the cigarette smoke curls in the air is temptingly romantic. In a moment of boldness, he slips on a t-shirt and steps out onto the balcony himself.

“Can I have a drag?” he asks Hermann.

After taking a drag himself, Hermann passes over the cigarette. Newt really doesn’t smoke, but in his drunken state, there’s an appeal in the act of sharing, something that has passed on from Hermann’s lips to his own. After the drag, he starts to cough. He’s out of practice for smoking anything, and probably a bit too eager for the symbolism of the cigarette.

“I’m assuming you don’t smoke very often,” Hermann states, taking the cigarette back from him. “Are your marijuana days behind you?”

Newt wavers his hand. “It’s not exactly easy to get these days. I’m sure those are hard earned cigarettes.”

Globally, after the increasingly frequent kaiju attacks, enterprise after enterprise has been impacted. The essential and moral has retained production, but unnecessary items are becoming harder to come by. Honestly, Newt welcomes the chance to come to somewhere on the Atlantic these days for easy access to alcohol.

“I have my sources,” Hermann answers. “But yes, I do have to ration them.”

“I wouldn’t think it’s a habit you’d have started.”

“It’s a very quick way to alleviate stress when I don’t have time to pursue other methods.”

“They shouldn’t be putting this much pressure on you.” Newt puts a hand on Hermann’s arm and squeezes, a bold show of support.

“Those are the same awful boxers you used to wear all the time,” Hermann observes, deftly changing the subject. “I thought they’d have fallen apart by now.”

“I lost them for about a year and a half, which helps.” Newt laughs, withdrawing his hand.

“Are you feeling more sober now?”

“Nope,” he answers, pointedly popping the “p” in the word. “I mean, I’m not drunk. But I’m not sober either.”

“Have some water and go to bed, Newton,” Hermann instructs. “I’m not going to coddle you for the rest of the weekend.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.” He huffs and steps back into the room, slamming the balcony door behind him.

 

In the light of the morning, Newt’s head only dimly throbs. Despite being angry about the request, he did drink water before climbing into bed that night. Blessedly, he was asleep before Hermann came back inside, so he’s not sure just how long he had stayed outside with his cigarettes.

Hermann is already awake, typing on a tablet and wrapped up in his work. The reading glasses are perched low on his nose and he gives the air of a man at least a decade older than he is. Only after Newt’s fully sat up and stretched does he look over at him.

“Good morning, Newton. I hope you feel alright this morning.”

“Nothing some painkillers can’t stop. How long have you been awake?”

“A few hours,” Hermann states, turning his attention back to his work at hand.

“I thought we could go on a boat tour today,” Newt suggests. “Just to get the authentic experience.”

“Mhm, of course.” Hermann does not look up from his work.

“If you don’t want to be here, you could have just said so,” Newt mutters as he stands. “I’m going to shower.”

When he reappears in the room, Hermann’s put his tablet away and changed into clothes for the day. He’s wearing a light sweater and is holding a hat that is definitely not what a man in his twenties, even his late twenties, would normally wear. Newt does the best job he can of slipping into clean boxers underneath the hotel bathrobe he has on before he sheds it to finish dressing.

“Perhaps we could eat breakfast before your boatride,” Hermann suggests. “Have you ever had a proper full English breakfast?”

“No.” Newt shakes his head, then smiles brightly. “I’ll be happy with anything that heavily features bacon.”

This seems like progress.

 

No one else shows up for their punt ride, so it’s only the two of them. They only half listen to the tour, as they fall into surprisingly easy conversation. It’s catching up, or filling in details, about three years of distance. Letters cannot capture every nuance of ordinary life quite the way that speaking can.

It feels dangerously like old times, as they sit side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders. Eventually, Newt moves to the next row of benches so he can face Hermann as they talk, claiming that he can’t see his face under the rim of the ridiculous hat from the side.

“You don’t have to dress like a grandpa to be taken seriously, you know,” Newt observes. “You’re still an attractive young man and it’s usually a shame to waste that.”

Okay, he’s flirting a little bit, which is probably not the best idea, but it can’t be helped.

“I dress for comfort. I can worry about fashion when I have less worries in my day to day life.”

“It’s clothes, it doesn’t require any thought. Do you think I think that much about what I wear every day of my life?”

“Clearly not.” Hermann snorts and Newt follows his eyes to the rip in the knee of his jeans.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Newt declares, shooting him a challenging look.

Hermann rolls his eyes and leans back in the punt, but he does pluck the hat off his head, resting it on his knee. Newt takes the chance to snatch it, placing it on his own head, hoping Hermann gets the picture of just how ridiculous it looks.

“That’s not a very punk rock look for you,” Hermann drawls.

“You know, it does keep the sun out of my eyes, though. And it definitely keeps the ladies and gentlemen far, far away.”

“Well, I’m definitely interested in keeping the ladies away, at the very least.”

There’s still a bit of a glare from the sun, but Newt is almost certain Hermann winks at him then.

“Then you should keep it.” Newt removes the hat and hands it back. “In case any unwanted suitors show up, right?”

“Mhm.” Hermann takes the hat and places it beside him on the bench. “I took the liberty of making us a dinner reservation before we left the hotel this morning.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a very nice restaurant, so you’ll probably want to change before then. We’ll have enough time to enjoy the afternoon and then return to the hotel beforehand.”

“What if I don’t have appropriate clothing for a nice restaurant?”

“I’m sure you’ll manage somehow.”

Newt starts to worry that now that the awkwardness has faded he’s going to get too comfortable with this and slip up, say something incriminating or foolish and then everything will slip through his hands. He has to handle this very carefully and think through his every action.

“I brought clothing just in case, so hopefully it’s not too terribly wrinkled.”

It’s not. He made sure to pack his nicer clothes very carefully, in case an occasion like this came up. Regardless of anything else, he does selfishly want Hermann to find him attractive, even if it leads to nothing but his own personal gratification. Feeling attractive to others is a feeling that’s become more and more rare, or maybe noticing it has.

“There’s an iron in the hotel, so you have no worries there,” Hermann adds.

“A what?” Newt quips back.

“I know you know how to do basic household chores. I taught you how to iron.”

“Wait until you hear what’s happened to that iron, by the way.”

“Oh God, Newton. Do I want to know?”

He most certainly should not want to know, but Newt tells him the story anyway.

 

Showering for a second time that day was not on Newt’s agenda, but he decides that if he’s going to go for a very nice dinner, he might as well freshen up and shave. It’s not that he wants to look younger, which he will without his smattering of facial hair, but he wants to look like someone he once was. He even spends an absurd amount of time debating if he’s styling his hair in the right way, but he stops himself from hyperfocusing on it. Turning back completely is impossible and he does have to contend with the changes to his body that he cannot help.

Back in the hotel room, he makes a point of shrugging into his leather jacket, once a holiday gift From Hermann.

“You need to do up at least one more button on your shirt,” Hermann observes, walking over to Newt to do the honors himself. The flush on Hermann’s cheeks is mostly hidden by the dim hotel room lighting, but it’s there.

Hermann is dressed in something similar to what Newt assumes is his usual prim attire, a sweater set, but he’s opted for black jeans instead of somewhat ill fitting pants.

“Don’t do up all the buttons.” Newt takes a step back. “It’s dinner, not a business meeting.”

The look Hermann gives him is something between appreciation (attraction) and scanning him as a parent would a child forced into their Sunday best. Newt remembers fully well how many different things one single look from Hermann can convey.

“Give me a moment and then we can be on our way.”

With a lingering touch to his arm, Hermann moves past him into the bathroom. Newt sits down on the edge of Hermann’s bed to wait. On the nightstand, he catches sight of a folded cane, the sort he’s used to seeing older tourists use that they shove in their bags. Of course it makes sense that Hermann’s bad leg is now a worse leg, but Newt has been so caught up in hoping things are exactly the same to not imagine that things have changed. The time to dwell on this is very short, as Hermann returns and once he’s in his jacket, they leave for the short walk to the restaurant.

 

 _This is not a date,_ Newt’s better sense screams at him as Hermann’s foot brushes against his for the fourth time. To be fair, the food is spectacularly late and they’re both two glasses of wine in, so the touching could be purely accidental. And one of the times he may or may not have initiated the contact. It’s honestly all a bit fuzzy.

“This place came highly recommended,” Hermann defends, once it’s been half an hour without food. “None of the reviews mentioned slow service.”

“Dude, it’s fine. Unless you think I’m really bad company and you’re really eager to get out of here.”

“No, that is not the case.” Hermann smiles over the rim of his wine glass. “I’m here this weekend for the opportunity to spend some time in your company.”

“We should try to do this again. Sooner than three years from now.”

The smile, warm and inviting as it seemed to Newt, flips into a frown within moments. “If I have the time, of course. I really have to prioritize my work.”

“Hey, we’re working for the same cause. We’re colleagues. I am work now.”

For the first time, it dawns on Newt that there’s a possibility that one day their lives could cross professionally as well. They could work in the same place and share meals like this on a regular basis. Hell, they could even manipulate things that way if they presented a very compelling argument.

“I will see you when I can,” Hermann concedes. His tone is defeated more than cruel, but the words still sting.

“We’ll stay in contact, let each other know if we happen to be in the same place again.”

Maybe that’s all they ever had, the fortune of a shared place. Thankfully, the food arrives then to keep either from dwelling on unpleasant thoughts.

 

The dinner goes until late. They manage to talk through the meal and split a dessert. The whole evening wavers on that strange line between a dinner between friends and a date. The walk back to the hotel that follows is quiet, but not awkwardly so. Maybe after all this time, they’ve run out of things to say to each other. That would be a great comfort to know someone so fully it’s no longer necessary to speak, but that doesn’t seem possible.

Once in the hotel, Hermann immediately shuffles outside with his cigarettes, lighting one before he shoves the rest of the pack into his pocket. Newt follows him out onto the balcony, leaning back against the railing so that he can face Hermann. Rather than speak, he watches Hermann’s movements attentively; the way he gently lifts the cigarettes to his lips, the small look of disgust that passes his face when he pulls his hand away. (Regret, Newt imagines, that he’s picked up such a distasteful habit.)

“Can I-” Newt starts to ask before he’s cut off.

“No.” Hermann drops the cigarette to the ground and stamps it out with his heel.

“Alright, well that was uncall-”

He cannot complete that thought, because in the next moment Hermann’s taking his face in his hands and kissing him. For the first few moments, it’s like everything in Newt’s brain has completely shut down and he cannot possibly process what’s happening. And then he kisses Hermann back. Hermann’s lips are chapped and he tastes like smoke and tobacco but Newt cannot even fathom bringing himself to care. He takes hold of Hermann’s jacket, pressing their bodies as close together as physically possible.

As the tenderness of the kiss melts, Hermann’s hands find their way to Newt’s hips. The right hand boldly dips beneath the waistband of Newt’s jeans and this is a phantom memory that feels all too right. It’s also a once familiar signal that very much so means that Hermann is keen on taking this farther than just kissing. Newt knows how to send signals of his own, as he attempts to push Hermann’s jacket off his shoulders. This makes for an awkward moment where the kissing has to stop for it to be tossed aside but then the usually careful Hermann tosses it aside as if it’s the most useless item of clothing he’s ever owned.

Newt steps back towards the room, letting his own jacket drop before unbuttoning his shirt. He realizes the struggle in trying to make walking backwards look sexy when he nearly trips over Hermann’s jacket, but Hermann follows him anyway. The shirt is half undone when they resume kissing and instead Newt chooses to occupy his hands with the work of undoing Hermann’s belt and jeans.

“I suppose this would be easier if we stopped,” Hermann exhales, as he breaks away from the kiss. The words hold a double meaning, but when Hermann steps away to toe off his shoes, Newt understands this to be in the most literal sense.

In a few moments, they stand in front of each other in just their underthings. Newt blinks a few times and then stares, taking in his fill. Hermann’s body looks much the same as he remembers, pale and lithe, a bit too sharp looking in places, but softened by the flush of arousal across his chest. His own body is softer than it was, and he’s aware of this.

“Oh,” Hermann mouths, his breath hitching. “Newton.”

The impulse to quip something about known that is his name fades quickly when he meets Hermann’s eyes, blown wide and eager with something it’s been far too long since Newt’s seen. Newt takes his final steps backward, sliding himself onto his bed in a not entirely ungraceful motion. Hermann follows, straddling him on the bed and taking the chance to lean down and kiss along his neck, his shoulders, his chest.

“I brought lube,” Newt says, and it’s probably the least sexy thing he could say in the moment. Mostly it was the only thing he could even bring himself to say out loud in the midst of the string of commentary running through his head. (It’s mostly expletives strung between confessions of love.)

“Where is it?” Hermann asks against Newt’s skin. He then sucks a nipple into his mouth, which does make it difficult for Newt to form the words to answer.

“Front pocket of the duffle bag.”

Hermann sits up then, and climbs half over Newt to reach for the bag and extract the lube, as well as two condoms. Newt feels oddly exposed, because admitting he has those things means admitting that he’d thought about this possibility. But this possibility is the one that’s happening and it’s awesome.

“Take your boxers off, darling,” Hermann nearly purrs the sentence.

Newt feels like something in him is going to explode at the pet name. This isn’t some idle lovers’ chat, this is something he used to be to Hermann, every day and night for the happiest months of his life. Darling. Dearest. Beloved. His. When Newt’s dazed for a few moments too long, Hermann takes the lead in removing the boxers, tossing them aside with even less care than he’d removed his own jacket.

“You still have the tattoo,” Hermann observes, attempting indifference, but his voice wavers. He reaches out, tracing the initials “H.G” on Newt’s inner thigh. The touch is both reverent and incredibly sexy.

“It still means something. Even if the meaning isn’t exactly the same. I mean, my feelings are- they’re-”Newt’s fumbling badly with his words. “I still have feelings about the tattoo.”

“The tattoo?”

“The person.”

He sits up enough to pull Hermann into another kiss. It’s heated and now it seems near impossible to break apart for more than a few moments. It’s amazing how easily they can fall back into this, kissing where they like to be kissed and the touching where they want, or need to be touched. Eventually, when Newt’s too eager and far too needy, he pushes Hermann gently over and straddles him. Newt leans over to reach for the condom and the lube, which Hermann had carelessly tossed aside. His hands shake as he attempts to open the condom wrapper, but he manages to do it without using his teeth. There’s nothing he wants more than to do this like this, but he suddenly feels so exposed.

“No need to be nervous, Newton,” Hermann says softly. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Newt lets out a shaky breath and for a moment he feels like he might cry, but he collects himself. This is about so much more than the sex, isn’t it? But he can’t articulate what else this can mean without exposing himself any further. His longing and sense of profound loss are not Hermann’s responsibility, it’s entirely his own. After a few more deep breaths, he manages to finish the preparations and seat himself.

Hermann holds on to Newt’s hips, guiding him slowly as he rocks on his cock. They’re both out of practice, which Newt finds to be a relief, even if that’s unfair. It’s not as though he spent the past three years celibate. He can’t help what he thinks, though. When Hermann’s graceful fingers wrap around him, he suddenly doesn’t care if Hermann’s had thousands of others, just that he’s here with Newt now. Newt moves harder, quicker, as he gives into the sensation.

“Oh God, Hermann. I love you,” he cries out and for a moment everything stops. The room seems devoid of air.

“Get on your back,” Hermann instructs.

It’s not exactly the most romantic response, but he hasn’t sent Newt away, so that counts as a victory and complies. Hermann hooks one of Newt’s legs indelicately over his shoulder before he pushes back in, thrusting hard and fast. Newt strokes himself off between them and from there it’s a shamefully short amount of time before they both hit their release. After they’ve both come down, Hermann takes care to arrange Newt more comfortably before he leaves to fetch a washcloth. When Newt is sufficiently clean to his liking, he lays half on top of him, nuzzling at his neck and placing soft kisses on his skin.

“Hermann?” Newt asks, because it’s been too long since anyone’s spoken.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what I would have done if I never got the chance to see you again.”

“I’m glad we were able to see each other again as well.” Hermann looks up at him with a smile. “I’ve missed you.”

“I don’t ever want to miss you like that again.”

“I know.”

Newt has many more things he wants to say, but he’ll chance them tomorrow.

 

When he wakes in the morning, Hermann is already dressed and sitting up in bed on his tablet. He supposes this is the new normal for Hermann, with how busy his workload must be.

“Hey,” Newt says softly. He sits up and attempts to rub the sleep from his eyes before reaching for his glasses, which Hermann had graciously placed on the nightstand. “We’ve still got a few hours until we have to leave the hotel.”

“It’s essential that I complete this work this morning,” Hermann answers and though his cheek is slightly flushed, he does not turn to face Newt.

“Okay. Alright. That’s fine.” Newt stands and leans over to rummage through his duffle bag. “Can we at least talk about last night?”

Hermann places his tablet down and watches as Newt steps into a clean pair of boxers. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Uh, we fucked.”

“Astute observation, Newton.”

Newt pulls a t-shirt over his head. “But it wasn’t just that, was it?” He’s hopeful. It’s unlikely Hermann will want to embark on a very serious relationship, but even agreeing to meet a few times a year would be satisfactory to Newt.

“It was very enjoyable.”

“Hermann. You can’t be serious right now.”

“Newton. I never in the course of last night intended to set anything but the expectation that we were engaging in a one time activity.”

Newt freezes halfway through pulling up his jeans. He collects himself and finishes the act before speaking again.

“You kissed me first,” Newt says. “You saw that I still have your initials tattooed on my body. You- you called me darling!”

“I’m sorry if that was the impression you gathered from-”

“I told you that I love you,” Newt grits out. “What about that makes you think that was a one night stand? Did you think I was lying?”

“No, I did not think you were lying. I’m sorry if I- I got carried away. In that moment.” Hermann will not meet Newt’s eye.

“You’ve known since you left Boston three years ago that I’m still in love with you. It’s evident in every word I write and don’t you dare deny it. And then you come here and,” Newt’s throwing his hands in the air for dramatic measure, “you know that and you act so cold to me, and then you kiss me just to keep me on the line. Is that what this is, Hermann? Just someone to keep on the backburner just in case?”

“No! You are not a...backup plan. I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you, I had no agenda. I had no intention of it going any further than a kiss until you kissed me back.”

“Meeting up was a mistake. Keeping in contact was a mistake.” Newt’s wandering around the hotel room now, searching for his things to shove in the duffle. “You stopped calling. You stopped texting. I don’t even know why you kept writing to me, with how formal you’d become but this is too much. It’s too much, Hermann.”

Hermann stands carefully, placing his tablet aside. “I handled last night poorly and I apologize for that.”

“I’m sorry, Hermann. I’m through with you. You won’t say you’re through with me, even though you were years ago, so I’ll say it for the both of us.”

Newt could handle the coldness, the formality. It was honest in its own way and it seemed like a defensive shield, but this felt like something else completely. This has denial and second guessing and seemed far more cruel. He sits on the edge of his bed, rather furiously attempting to tie his shoe. He wants to be out of this room immediately.

“I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you. Again.” Hermann hovers awkwardly near the foot of the bed. Newt glances up long enough to notice that there are tears in his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to care in the moment.

“Yeah, well, you’re done hurting me now. You can’t do it anymore. Please don’t write to me, I will be discarding anything you send.” Newt leans down to grab his leather jacket and his bag. “I hope you have a great, lonely life Hermann.” The last bit is probably too much and even in his anger he regrets it.

“I wish you well, Newton. Should our paths ever cross again-”

“Let’s hope for both of our sakes they don’t.”

It’s still hours before he’s supposed to check out, but Newt doesn’t care. He takes his haphazardly packed bag and leaves, letting the door slam behind him. He'll take the car back to the rental place and take an earlier train out of this awful city. There’s heartbreak to unpack when he returns home, but he knows he can take the chance to funnel this further into his work. He’s not sure if he’s looking forward to or dreading a future devoid of Hermann more in that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "So Stupid, So Smart" by the Awkward Stage which...is horribly apt to this whole series and has some generally fitting angsty lyrics for this pairing, so give it a listen.
> 
> Part 3 to come, and I'm sure you can guess given the trajectory of time where we'll next see these two.


End file.
